


I Cheated Myself

by redwinehouse (orphan_account)



Series: Cranial Capacity INDEFINITE HIATUS, BUT A FULL STORY LINE WAS COMPLETED [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, Romance, Smut, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 08:31:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11779329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/redwinehouse
Summary: You knew damn well what you were doing. You knew damn well who you were breaking.





	I Cheated Myself

  


[](http://www.dazzlejunction.com/generators/image-generator.php)

  


You stood there, your body rigid in complete shock from your own actions. James Moriarty, the orchestrator of the mass infanticides, the man who was terrorizing your family, and the one who had promised to kill your husband stood before you, so close that your lips would gently graze each other whenever one of you took a breath.

Earlier, Moriarty had held your entire family hostage, laying out his full plan and kidnapping your daughter. As to rub some salt into the wound, Moriarty had grabbed you in front of Sherlock and had initiated a full on make out session. It was meant to infuriate Sherlock, and infuriate it did. Once you two had parted Sherlock was murderous, and it took every man in the room to hold him down.

What he didn’t know was that you had enjoyed it immensely and initiated another kiss after the event, as well as several others afterwards – expertly concealed, of course. With a snap of his fingers, Moriarty had ordered everyone out, which apparently hadn’t been a part of the original plan, but after a terrifying threat, Goons #1-4 dragged Sherlock and John outside. Sherlock had fought with all of his might and it broke your heart to see him forced out of the door. You would have done the same for him.

So there you were, gently touching foreheads with London’s possibly most notorious, if not the world’s, most dangerous criminal. You were looking down at your shoes, unable to take the shame that was coursing through every inch of your body. _Why?_ You kept asking yourself.

Why?

Why?

Why?

Was it because you were an empath and were naturally drawn to socio and psychopaths? Was your brain trying to cope with this hell by making you like the puppet master? Or was this some weird Stockholm Syndrome where you didn’t need to be held captive to bond with your torturer?

You looked up, causing your noses to bump.

 _“Hiii,”_ he sang softly against your lips. “I must say, I’m quite the creative person but I _never_ would have predicted this!” he pulled back. “Who would have thought that the angelic Sherlock’s do-good wife would actually willfully snog _James Moriarty?_ ” he almost pranced to the window. He turned to you and said, “I kinda want to open this and tell everyone. Do you mind?” he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.

“Oh god,” you whimpered before you buried your face in your hands.

Moriarty winced. “I knew I shouldn’t have said it out loud.” he put his hands in his pockets and came back to you. “All you’re doing is upgrading, sweetheart," he bent down and pulled your hands away so that you could see his smile, “there’s nothing wrong with that.” he snorted. “That detective is just so _noble._ Isn’t that just _boring_?" he took two of his fingers and lifted your chin up. he raised an eyebrow. “You’re much too interesting for that.”

Before your logical side could tell the moron in you to stop, you leaned forward and kissed him, only once. It gave your heart a lurch that you had never felt before; it was the one you felt when you were excited to finally kiss a man you were attracted to the first time, mixed with extreme guilt, mixed with the pleasure of knowing you were doing something completely and utterly wrong.

It was the most invigorating thing you had ever experienced.

Moriarty tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear before he kissed you back in a way that you could never see him as. It was soft and gentle, like sinking into a bed of plush feathers or the waves on the beach on a windless day. As your lips touched his, you were reminded of silk and his hot breath made you feel the warmth of the sun. Maybe it was because you were overwhelmed, but it was hard to distinguish the coolness of your bare skin as a metaphor or whether your clothes had been stripped from you.

Cool sheets on skin, like a cold river on a hot summer’s day. Hot skin meeting hot skin and trails of kisses and bites over a vast expanse of skin. Raging winds of breath and that mind numbing rush of sheer ecstasy of it all before the calmness after the storm.

You reached up to touch his cheek. Moriarty’s entire face was completely a light, his eyes wide and alive as they tracked the movement of your hand.

“There we go,” he laughed. “Now was that so hard?” he sat up.

 _Superficial charm._ Your eyes moved to his very obvious designer brand suit. You had a glance at the tag earlier when you ripped his jacket off - Westwood. _Inflated sense of self-worth._ You thought back on this demented game Moriarty was playing just because he was bored. _Constant need for stimulation._ Burning the heart out of you, terrorizing a family, kidnapping a child, murder… _Lack of remorse or guilt, callousness; lack of empathy, conning others; being manipulative, lying pathologically, shallow emotions…_

“You are a complete psychopath.”

Moriarty’s eyes flicked to his right and then to his left. “Well, yes. I think that’s something we as a group can maturely agree upon.” He placed a finger to his lips as if deep in thought. “I wonder,” he began, laying his hand over the one you had on his cheek, “what does that make you?” he finished, his face becoming cold.

~*~

Sherlock and John and came back about two hours later, enough time for the both of you to straighten yourselves out. You had enough time to take a shower and change the sheets. Moriarty saw his way out, but not before he crushed you against the wall and give you a rough kiss.

“Jim, from now on, sweetheart. I think we’re on a first name basis now,” he whispered into your ear. He gave a final kiss to your temple and he was gone.

You stood in the middle of the silent living room of 221B, hugging yourself.

What had you done?

You had taken a homicidal maniac into your bed; that was what you had done. You had spent most of your evening schmoozing with your family’s own personal terrorist and you had loved _ever.single.minute.of.it._ Moriarty was right. _You_ were the real monster here. You had a baby taken and rather than starting to look for her, you slept with her captor. You betrayed your husband and shared something that was only supposed to be between you with a person who wanted to murder him. No, wanted to burn the heart out of him, destroy everything he held dear, and then kill him.

Unable to handle all of the emotions at once, you collapsed on the ground and let the sobs rack your body. You held yourself, feeling cold and wanting to protect yourself from everything cruel in the world. This was how Sherlock found you when he burst through the door, eyes wild, chest heaving, and shouting your name. You looked up at him and only cried harder.

“What’s wrong!?” he asked breathlessly, his face showing nothing but concern and worry. He knelt down and pulled you to him. “I was so afraid,” his voice cracked slightly and he pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head. “Did he hurt you?” He took your face in his hands and inspected it, his dazzling blue eyes searching for any wounds.

You shook your head. “No,” you swallowed. “he just did his little show boating and left.”

Sherlock stared at you and you were afraid he knew that you had just told him a bald-face lie. He kept staring for a few more moments, making your heart jump into your throat, but he finally looked away.

“Okay.” He leaned in and kissed you, but as soon as his lips touched yours, you violently pulled away. You immediately saw the hurt in his eyes. You couldn’t help it; you were reminded of Moriarty’s dizzying, sinful kisses and you couldn’t bare it.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized quietly. “this day has been hard.”

Sherlock gently ran the back of his hand down your cheek. “Of course. We ran an APB on Jade. He won’t do anything do to her, at least not yet. All of this will be over once we outsmart him.”

_Yeah. Did you know I slept with him?_

“Yes. We’ll be okay,” you managed with a small fake smile.

“We will find him,” Sherlock promised, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, just as Moriarty had a few hours ago.

_He was just in your bed._

Sherlock stood up and offered you a hand, which you took. Pulling you up, he brought you into a warm embrace. 

You’ve never felt so dirty.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I'm going to need a couple minutes to think of where we are going on this journey


End file.
